


Every Day In A Spiral

by sonicsora



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Isolation, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: He's in a spiral. He's falling, but he can't stop it. He gave up so much to be here. He gave up Spider-Man, he gave up New York, he gave up seeing his family. Love means sacrifices, doesn't it? He gave up so much to be with Travis.But, Peter isn't happy. He knows he isn't. He hasn't been happy for a long time.What else can he do but keep spiraling? It's all he has anymore.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Peter/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	Every Day In A Spiral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinkerSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerSpark/gifts).



> Welcome to I'm A Bastard hours. I felt like writing something horrible, and you're all inflicted with it. RIP. 
> 
> Travis is some rando Peter met at college, that's all you really need to know about him. Peter is a grown-ass adult who moved to a new state with his boyfriend, things went uh, wildly wrong.

He hasn’t realized how far he’s been pulled from his family until he checks his phone on a casual whim on his day off. Even with the distance, he and Harley would text every day. Peter skims the texts, it was all Harley messaging him and Peter letting it go with minimal responses. Enough to appease Harley, but… not even a real conversation. 

He goes through his other conversations via text and notices it’s the same for everyone. Ned, MJ, Pop, Papa, Dad. Any of his friends from work. He was polite, friendly, but had distance in every reply. It didn’t even sound like him, not really. He can pick out the few texts he didn’t write himself among the real ones. 

Dad and Harley were the ones pushing the hardest to talk. Harley had likely already hacked his phone and found nothing alarming. He’d see Peter barely used his phone much at all unless it was to text family or make calls. 

Maybe his family thought he was just distracted with work, with life on a different coast. 

Peter sets the cellphone back down on the side table next to the bed. He sinks back under the covers for a moment staring at the ceiling as he chewed at his bottom lip. 

He hadn’t known, hadn’t realized how far everything had gone. How isolated he was until he thought about texting Harley and felt a twinge of fear. 

His boyfriend wouldn’t like it. Travis wouldn’t like any of these thoughts he was having. It's like cold water pouring down his back, like a chill he can’t warm himself up from. He wraps his arms around himself, fingers digging into the skin of his bare arms. 

He spared his laptop a nervous glance, it sat innocently on the desk in the bedroom turned off for now surrounded by paperwork. The urge to look up ‘is this normal?’ sat in the back of his mind before he drops the thought entirely. It’s a bad thought. 

This was normal, everyone grew distant from their families. 

Everyone. 

Right?

\--

He picks through his closet, setting aside an outfit for the next day out of habit more than anything else. Peter’s hand settles against the neck of the hanger as he turns it to face him. It’s another plain button-up shirt. His boyfriend didn’t like anything too busy. No patterns, no bright colors. 

He runs his fingers across the fabric, a rich oxford that was nice to the touch. It was meant for long wear, to last forever if taken care of. 

Peter realizes dimly he hates it. He hates this shade of blue, he hates the way the buttons feel against his fingers when he buttons it up, he hates the loose boxy fit that makes him look weird. 

He turns the hanger back, moving to look at the next shirt. 

They were nearly identical. The difference was this one had a pocket on the front, the collar was slightly less pronounced and it was grey. 

He turns it and looks at the next shirt. It’s white, but nearly the same. The only solace he finds is the large cable knit sweaters in the farthest corner of the closet, there is some texture there, something to actually hold onto. Next to them are all neutral colored turtlenecks and long-sleeved polos. He has no real sort sleeves to wear, he was just supposed to roll the sleeves up. He realizes all his shirts with puns or any kind of images are just gone. He owns one pair of jeans. 

Peter finds one of the least offensive shirts, hanging it up with slacks. He hates both on principle. Somehow it was all he has. He picks up his cellphone, and takes a picture to send to Harley. 

_‘I look like dad, but even older in any of these. I became an old man.’_

He sends it without a thought, just relieved to let some steam off. Harley’s response just makes him laugh and feel lighter. 

Peter only realizes it’s a mistake when his boyfriend picks up his phone later, and starts an argument over it. “Do you just not appreciate what I do for you, Peter?! Is that why you’re acting like a complete child!?” 

“That's- its just a joke, Travis! I was joking with my brother.” 

“Some joke, Pete. I picked these for you, if you hated it, you shouldn’t have let me waste my hard-earned money on it.” Travis knocks things off of the coffee table’s top and Peter flinches. 

Peter has to apologize to Travis, and promises he won’t do it again. His phone gets hidden from him for a few hours until everything is calm again.

He jolts and flinches for the next couple days after the fight, his heart hammering in his chest when he feels his boyfriend’s gaze on him. He learns to go back to texting everyone sparingly. It’s easier for everyone. 

\--

He chews at the straw of his drink, staring out at the whizzing cars, for once LA wasn’t locked in a traffic jam. His gaze keeps landing on the road they’re seated across. The chairs are small and uncomfortable, and Peter’s mind keeps wandering. 

Peter runs his hand through his hair as he half listens to the group talk amongst themselves. It’s a work outing and he’s more on the fringes. 

Travis is the social butterfly, bright and cheery, able to make everyone laugh. Peter knows he’s here only because of him. He should be thankful. 

He eats some of his meal, before sliding it towards his boyfriend like he always does. It’s what he’s supposed to do. Travis gives him a smile, one that used to make Peter feel all… melty. A smile that used to make Peter forgive him every time they argued. 

Peter finds himself smiling back, but doesn’t feel that same flutter anymore. There is teasing about his boyfriend having a vivacious appetite and Peter having to suffer through it. 

Peter almost wants to tell them, Travis just wants him to stay thin. Peter needs to be thin, otherwise, Travis will get angry. He has to eat when his boyfriend isn’t around to try and not get dizzy. His super metabolism means he needs food, even if he doesn’t get it. 

Instead he drinks his diet soda and makes the vaguest small talk he can with his coworkers at Google. It falls back into discussing work and he feels more alive at least talking about that much. 

\--

Rough fingers catch at his wrist. Peter barely reacts as Travis pinches at him. 

He just _smiles_. He doesn't even look up from his conversation, he carries on without hesitation. Their coworker doesn't even notice, she's busy laughing at the joke he made, her eyes bright with mirth. 

Peter isn't even sure what he said wrong, but he's careful. He's careful and won't do it again. 

He can be good.

\--

"I thought you were Spider-Man?" Travis questions with a slight laugh. All the rage has seemingly just dropped out of Travis. Peter isn't sure what he did, or what caused the anger, but it had blown up and dropped away so quickly the brunette feels like he has whiplash. Peter suspects the punch alone that knocked him off of his feet was enough for now. 

Peter just curls into himself, clutching at his face. His hands are shaking. He can't stop shaking. The tile floor is cold, cold against his skin as he tries to calm down. He chokes out an answer, knowing not answering is worse. "I was." 

"C'mon, Spidey." Travis crouches down to haul Peter up off of the floor. Peter doesn't even fight his touch or hold. He moves with Travis, afraid, but unable to pull away. "Shouldn't bruise too badly, right?" 

"It'll heal in a few hours," Peter confirms easily as he stumbles on unsteady feet. He ends up leaning into Travis, clinging to him a little desperately. He needs to be close, he needs Travis. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I upset you." 

"Don't worry about it, baby." Travis hums, running a hand across Peter's back. His tone is all soft and apologetic, he cuddles Peter close. All Peter can do is bury his bruising face against Travis' shoulder. His boyfriend tangles his fingers in Peter's hair casually as he speaks. "I shouldn't lose my temper like that, but... you know how it is." 

"Mhmm."

Peter can't muster much of anything else. What else can he even say? 

He just needs to forgive Travis. 

It's what he's done before. It's what he'll do now.

\--

“We should match.” Travis says easily, “It’d be cute.” 

“But-“ Peter chews at his bottom lip, the idea of shaving his head feels weird. “I like my hair right now?” 

The tightness in his boyfriend's features, around the edge of his smile means Peter has said the wrong thing. “What, you don’t wanna match? I thought it’d be fun Pete.” He grits his teeth in a way that makes Peter’s heart race in a panic. “You never want to do anything I want to do.” 

“N-no, we, we can match.” He stumbles to correct, to keep the peace a little desperately. “I, I guess I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry.” 

Travis’ smile is back almost instantly and Peter knows he’s dodged real trouble. Peter learns to just swallow his unhappiness. 

They come home matching with shaved heads from the barber, Travis runs his hand over Peter’s shaved head with a pleased grin. “It's perfect for LA weather, babe. Trust me, you’ll love it.” 

Peter finds himself nodding dumbly, agreements just spilling out of his mouth weakly. “Yeah, of… course. It’s… not New York weather or anything.” He gets a kiss for his words, he gets treated so nice for the next week. He’s treated to nice dates, brought flowers, wooed so intensely it makes the knot in his chest lessen. 

He could almost forget he hates how he looks when he looks in a mirror. He cries when his boyfriend isn’t home. He refuses any facetime requests from family, just wearing as many hats as he can get away with. Just enough his boyfriend doesn’t get mad. 

He cries in relief when his hair grows back in as soft curls. Travis doesn’t ask to match again but doesn’t seem mad, so Peter takes it. He takes what he can get. He gave up so much of Travis. He has to make it work. 

\--

His grip tightens at the curls at the base of Peter's neck. Travis is warm at his back, his breath stinks of cheap booze and Peter can't even hear him over the music. The man just holds him close and all Peter wants to do is scoot away. All of his senses are twisted and discomforted by the music and scents. He never liked parties back in college, that much hasn't changed even now. Peter doesn't even want to be here. He wanted to sleep after work. 

_Too close, too close, too close._ pounds against the back of his head as Travis' fingers pull at the curls, a reminder, a warning to smile. He needs to keep smiling. He needs to be happy. He needs to fit together with Travis. He can't embarrass his boyfriend at a work party. They are one of the most envied couples on their floor. People love how in love they are. People want to be them. 

Peter just smiles, tipping his head back.

What else can he do but smile?

\--

He wakes up listless some days, knowing sometimes he can’t get anything right. Sometimes there is just no making Travis happy. If Travis isn’t happy, Peter knows he can’t be either. There is just no middle ground when Travis isn't happy. 

He’s only mildly troubled when he realizes he has been contemplating walking into traffic and ignoring his spider-sense for a month or two. 

Peter manages to veer away from that feeling, just barely as he focuses on work, on the few friends he does have that Travis approves of. Even if they tell Travis everything he says. Even if it is used against him. He can't say much of anything, not without it funneling back to his boyfriend. 

It’s all a cycle he’s just grown used to. 

He’s starting to realize he doesn’t like it.

All Peter can do is bury the realization as deeply as he can, he needs to make this work. He can't give up. He _can't_

Some small part of him desperately wants to though. Some small part of him wants to curl into a ball and _scream_ until his voice is hoarse. He's been so quiet, so small for so long. He keeps spiraling, he keeps _falling_ and he doesn't know how to stop. 

\--

Travis is all smiles and easiness in a way that Peter wants to enjoy, but finds himself anxious about. Everything about his boyfriend makes Peter anxious now. He’s noticed things and can’t pretend he hasn’t. He can’t close his eyes completely to the problems. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t flinch when Travis raises a hand. He can’t pretend he isn’t always watching the other man’s body language for signs of a fight. He can’t pretend Travis even remotely raising his voice doesn’t set Peter off into a panic. He can’t pretend Travis mocks him and belittles his thoughts without hesitation. He’s been pretending so long, and now its hard to keep it up.

They’re on a date, a date at a nice restaurant, a lot nicer than they’ve been too in months. Peter can tell from the fact the menu has no real prices listed anywhere on it. He remembers Papa chuckling and telling him the rich don’t need to know the price of things. 

Travis has been good all month, soft and sweet. It nearly makes Peter forget, nearly. His boyfriend is holding his hand across the table stroking his thumb across Peter’s knuckles. He kisses Peter’s wrist teasingly, nuzzling into his hand. “You’re gorgeous, Pete.” 

Peter somehow doesn’t flinch even if he remembers last month Travis tightening his grip so hard on his wrist it left a bruise. If not for his healing factor, they would’ve been more questions. 

He understands why Travis is acting so sweet by desert when he pushes back from his chair and gets down on one knee. He pulls out a ring box, opening it as he smiles at Peter. “Peter Parker, will you marry me?” 

The restaurant goes silent and people are staring. Peter has never felt so sick in his life. His hands shake as he covers his mouth staring at the other man. 

“I-“ He struggles choking on his words. He can feel Travis patience fading, can see it in the twitch of his lips. People are starting to whisper, awkward coughs fill the air. 

Peter pushes back from his chair still staring at Travis. He nearly trips over his own feet as he takes off, running in the opposite direction. “Peter!” He knows the warning tone, he knows it when Travis calls after him. Peter knows what it means. 

He’s going faster than he strictly should be running, he’s out of the restaurant almost panicking as he runs past Travis’ car into the street. He makes it across with only a few cars honking at him as he runs. He weaves around the few people out this late on the sidewalk ignoring the indignant sounds or angry shouts he leaves in his wake. 

He sheds the suit coat, he sheds his tie as he runs, uncaring of where they end up. The fabric flutters behind him, landing on the side walk in heaps of fabric. He can feel his phone vibrating heavily in his pocket. He can picture Travis angrily texting him. It sends a shot of terror through Peter as he runs. 

Peter is out of breath when he stumbles to a stop in front of the apartment. His hands are shaking, but he grabs the extra key from under the plant by the door and lets himself in. He stumbles into the apartment, resting his head against a wall for a long moment. He’s trying to catch his breath as his fingers tighten into a fist around the front of his shirt. 

Every instinct, every instinct is yelling for him to run. For once, he doesn’t ignore it for Travis’ sake. 

He grabs his suitcase from the back of the closet, grabbing anything that is sentimental he has left shoving it in the bag. He gets his laptop in its carrying case, he grabs everything he actually wants. 

Peter realizes, not much is his anymore, and it hasn’t been for the past two years. He swallows down a frustrated scream that wants to escape as he slams his suitcase closed, zipping it tightly. 

He’s changed out of the uncomfortable loafers he had been wearing to his only pair of sneakers. He snaps the apartment door closed behind him, leaving the key in its usual place. He walks down the stairwell and just runs again. He runs several blocks, until he feels less likely Travis will find him. The thought of Travis finding him just makes the brunette's blood run cold. 

He pulls his phone out of his pants pocket, wincing at what he does read of the text pop-ups on his lock screen. He unlocks the phone hurriedly trying not to read anything else as he flicks to find uber on his homescreen. 

He gets a ride to the airport. He mutes Travis trying not to read any of the texts. He can’t, he knows, he knows if he does he’ll just go back. 

He walks up to the counter, surprising the women there as he buys a ticket to New York. The five-hour flight is enough time for Peter to just sleep, and try to not think. His instincts are telling him, he needs to go. He hasn’t been Spiderman in two years, but his instincts are still there, still strong as ever. 

He’s finally just listening to them. 

\--

He nods politely if not distractedly back to the driver as he steps out of the car. The car door snaps shut behind him and he hears the car take off back into the flow of traffic. He walks up the steps leading to the front entrance of the Avengers tower. 

It is strangely daunting to stand in front of his home. Would his parents even… want him anymore? He wasn’t Spiderman anymore. He wasn’t really Peter, was he? He clings to the strap of his bags just staring at the glass tower nervously as he tries to steady his breathing. All he had to do was walk in. _All he had to do was walk in._ He could do this. He's faced harder things. He's fought people stronger and smarter him and come out on top.

He toys with the strap of his laptop bag, chewing on his bottom lip before pushing forward into the lobby. The lobby is everything he remembers, clean polished lines, modern artwork on the walls, potted plants in corners. All of it screams Aunt Pepper in a way that almost makes him nostalgic. He can almost picture his aunt nagging his Papa about how to decorate the tower. Peter finds himself coming to a stop in front of the desk in the lobby. He doesn't even need to check-in, but he's so used to doing it at work.

The secretary looks up from her computer, “Excuse me, sir, do you have an appointment?” Like any good Stark Industries employee, she's leery. Peter can't blame her, even if it makes his skin crawl.

Peter pauses, opening and closing his mouth as his grip tightens on his bag strap. “N-no.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, but Mr. Stark isn’t accepting any drop-in appointments.” She’s all smiles, its tight at the edges like Travis’ get and it makes Peter’s heart leap into a panic. 

“I’m- I’m Peter.” He offers, stumbling over his own words. 

“Well, Peter.” She pops the p in his name, breezing through the calendar laid out on the desk. “We can set up an appointment for you, the next open slot is next month on the twenty-third.” 

“I- no, I, I’m Tony’s son.” He manages to get out, “I’m, just gonna go.” 

“Sir-“ She rises half from her seat looking indignant from what Peter sees as he walks forward in the direction of the elevator. He might as well just go and hope for the best. He ducks his head trying to calm down as he walks up to the elevator, he punches in his personal family code on the keypad next to the elevator doors. 

FRIDAY dings the door open for him. “Welcome home, Peter.” Her voice offers easily, calm as ever. “Your parents aren’t currently in the tower, should I alert them to your arrival?” 

“No, I’m, okay.” He exhales as he steps into the elevator. He catches sight of the secretary who looks flabbergasted and sinks back into her seat. He waves a little uncertainly as the doors slide shut. Peter reaches out to press the button to take him to the private living quarters. “Where are they, Friday-?” 

FRIDAY speaks warmly, “Tony is with Pepper currently, they have a meeting with a business associate, Steve is currently with Harley on some kind of briefing at SHIELD. Bucky has merely left to pick up Morgan.” 

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair, “Thank you, Friday.” 

The ride up is peaceful, Peter can finally feel all the tension slowly unwinding as he gets higher and higher in the tower. He feels safe in a way he hadn’t before. 

He walks out into the main living area and breathes out a sigh. He walks around taking in what has changed since he last lived in New York and visited often. 

He ends up in his old room, he drops his suitcase by the door and settles his laptop down by his old desktop computer as he moves to lay in the too-small bed. 

Peter doesn’t care because it feels like home. He shifts a little on the bed to glance up at the ceiling a little pensively. “Hey, Friday, when they get home can you tell them I’m here? I, I’m going to take a nap.” 

“Can do, Peter.” 

\--

He wakes up a little blearily to the sound of knocking on the door, followed by the familiar sound of his dad’s voice. “Petey-?” 

He rubs at his eyes as he sits up, realizing he had fallen asleep in the clothes he traveled in. A very rumpled button-up shirt and pressed slacks. He moves to sit up, feeling exhausted. “Dad-” 

The door opens with that, and Bucky walks in just staring at his son for a moment before moving to settle down on the edge of the bed. “Petey, you look- tired.” He doesn’t hesitate to reach out, draping an arm over Peter’s shoulders. 

“Maybe.” He offers back, tucking against his dad readily. He’s realizing he’s how... Thin he actually is when he’s curled up against his dad like this. He remembers how his dad’s hugs felt, this only felt off because of him. Everything is off because of him. 

He simply just leans against his dad for a long moment before quietly muttering. “I, had to come home.” 

“You’re more than welcome to stay, baby.” Bucky kisses his son’s brow gently, he only pulls away to just look at the younger man. “...What happened?” 

It all comes tumbling out in pieces. Bucky just holds him for a long moment. They’re only interrupted by a wild-eyed Harley bursting into the room. His twin is quick to join the embrace. Tony and Steve linger in the doorway, but don’t rush in the same way Harley has. Morgan is peering in a little more leerily from around Tony.

Peter laughs a little just holding onto Harley as well. “Okay, so I was missed.” He tries to joke, though it comes off lackluster. He’s just squeezed into submission by his twin for his efforts. He doesn’t tell everyone everything, it just feels weird. 

“I… wanted to come home. Can I stay?” 

“Peter, you don’t even have to ask that.” Exhales Steve slowly, his lips curling into a tired kind of smile. “Honey, just settle in, alright?” Tony agrees readily. 

Bucky huffs a little, “Stay.” 

“California sucks anyway.” Is Harley’s helpful addition to their case which makes Peter laugh again. 

The only one who's wary around him ends up being a teenaged Morgan when he tries to talk to her later. She’s frustrated at his lack of communication, and Peter can’t really blame her. It hurts, but he knows it’s the truth. 

It’s his fault this happened, and he has to figure out how to live with it now.

\--

All it takes is a broken mug. 

The crash of it feels so loud, so terrible Peter is rooted to the spot in the kitchen for a long moment just staring at its remains. Just as quickly he's on his hands and knees. Hot water is soaking into his jeans. The teabag that was in it had skittered off across the polished tiled floor. 

Peter can taste the panicked bile rising in the back of his throat as he scrambles to pick up the shards. The broken pieces cut into his palm, but he can't muster much of a reaction to it. His mind is spinning. He can't let them see. He can't let them see how much of a failure he is. For all his promise, for all his abilities, he's a _joke_. 

"Pete?" 

The young man freezes where he's seated on the ground. He stares at the pieces of mug in his palms. His skin is torn and bleeding over the pieces. He'll need to wash what's left of the mug if he's going to fix it. He needs to fix it. He has to fix it. 

"Peter? Honey? Whats-" Tony's voice grows more concerned as he walks into the kitchen. His walk stops just as quickly as he takes in the scene. "Fuck, Peter! Your hands!"

"S-sorry." He chokes out, swallowing back the bile best he can. "I'll- I'll fix it. I'll-" 

"Honey, I don't give a single shit about the mug." Peter finally looks up at Tony, just staring at him for a moment. He watches his papa's face for any changes, any signs, any shifts he should be aware of. 

"I... you don't?" He questions, hating how small his voice sounds. 

"I don't." Tony promises with a wince, "Just, let me get you cleaned up, okay?" 

Peter nods numbly, just echoing Tony. "Okay." He stays on the floor, just blankly watching Tony work around him. He doesn't say anything when his papa plucks the shards out of his palms, washes, and bandages his hands. Bucky eventually appears in the doorway, Steve not far behind him. Peter drops his gaze to the tiled floor. 

"I think, its time we all talk." Steve offers gently back from where he's standing.

Peter's breath shakes in his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Y-yeah." He looks up again, blinking back tears as his Pop gingerly helps him stand back up. The blonde man slings an arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter leans heavily into his Pop, just starting to cry as his parents lead him into the living room. 

All it takes is a broken mug, and Peter feels himself stumbling out of the spiral.


End file.
